


Mother May I?

by rosesofred



Series: Prodigal Brat [5]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bratting, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual, OTK, Over the Knee, Spanking, Yikes, corner time, jessica walks in, tantrums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesofred/pseuds/rosesofred
Summary: So this time Jessica happens to stop by while poor Malcolm is over his mentor's knee. Embarrassment ensues. Contains spanking!
Series: Prodigal Brat [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566229
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Mother May I?

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's got Prodigal Son fever? It's me, I've got it. Love this show, love Malcolm, love Gil, I will write about this until I'm sick of it. This happens after episode 9 I think, Malcolm has been doing a lot better but still needs help. Please enjoy and leave a comment if you liked it!

As much as Malcolm hated to admit it, he knew Gil was right. He did deserve to be punished, he’d committed the crime, it was only fair he paid the price. Which was why he had willingly draped himself over his mentor’s lap, went without a fight. That and he knew that fighting it only made matters worse. With the lieutenant it was either obey or add to your punishment, so the young consultant picked the easier route. Better to be disciplined fairly then make it twice as bad, double his pain. A steady growing ache was building in his backside but he was proud to say he was taking it well, holding in his tears with ease.

This was nothing compared to some of the other punishments he’d received, recalling a particular instance involving a ruler. Regardless, he trusted his father figure to treat him justly and forgive him afterwards like he always did. It was a stupid mistake, one he should have had the forsight to avoid. But he did it anyways, simply because he wanted to. Gil had been clear in his orders not to pursue the suspect, to stay put and do as he was told. But being the rebellious free spirit he was, Malcolm thought he knew better. It was just a coincidence that the suspect ended up pulling a gun on him, threatening his life and giving him a black eye. So maybe he did deserve this, maybe he’d definitely crossed a line.

But Bright was learning, becoming better at keeping himself alive and following orders. He’d really started to make his mentor proud, something the young man really took to heart. He felt like he was growing and his punishments were happening far less often as proof of the matter. “Do you know why you’re being punished?” There it was, finally the boy knew it would be over soon. He just had to answer the questions the way he knew Gil wanted him to and the whole thing would be over in a matter of minutes.

He was about to respond when the vibration in his pocket made him jerk in surprise, his phone ringing loudly. “Uh, can I- can you hold on?”

Gil paused, his hand in the air. He found it amusing that his son would be concerned with getting a call in his current predicament but allowed it anyways. “Go ahead.”

Malcolm reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone to see who could be calling him. A terrible look crossing his face, Bright swiped his phone to silence it, throwing the device on the bed where they were seated. “It’s no one.”

“You’re not going to answer your mother?” Arroyo smiled, feeling the young man shift uncomfortably across his lap.

“Not right now,” Malcolm replied snidely.

“Fair enough.” Gil slapped his hand down, taking the consultant off guard. He continued his previous rhythm, noting how little it was affecting the boy. Was he going too easy on him? It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before Malcolm’s phone went off again, his mother determined to reach him. “It might be urgent,” Arroyo commented, his hand never missing a beat.

“She can wait,” Bright grunted. He silenced it again, this time throwing it far away on the other side of the mattress.

Gil nodded his head, giving his son a look he couldn’t see. It probably wasn’t wise of him to blow off his mother, as she had a tendency to show up unannounced. But that was his choice, his mistake to make.

When his phone went off a third time, Arroyo already knew what would happen. But he kept it to himself, allowing the boy to make what was obviously an enormous error. You can’t learn if you don’t make your own mistakes, after all. Malcolm was too wrapped up in his own head to notice the footsteps coming up the stairs but Gil was very aware of what was about to unfold. Still, he continued with the punishment, not stopping until the front door flung open, angry mother of the year walking through with intention.

Malcolm’s head whipped to face her, a cold sweat of panic forming almost immediately. “Mother!” He tried to push himself up but Gil held him in place over his lap. “Let me up!”

“Hello, Jessica,” the lieutenant greeted smoothly.

“Gil,” she replied, her hands going to her hips. She narrowed her eyes, giving her son a cold angry look. “You can’t pick up your phone?” she directed at Malcolm.

“I’m a little busy!” the consultant was blushing up to his ears, face red as a tomato with embarrassment. “Gil!” he demanded, struggling against the man.

“Relax, Malcolm. She knows.”

“What?!” he looked up at his mentor, then back to his mother in disbelief. She knew? As in, she already knew before coming up to see this?

“Malcolm, darling, I’ve always known.” She walked closer, heels clicking across the floor with confidence.

“”What!?” he shouted again, unable to form any intelligent words.

“Of course, he told me immediately. You don’t think Gil would ever do this without my blessing?” She stopped in front of them both, unfazed by the fact that her full grown son was draped over another man’s lap. 

“Your blessing?” Malcolm whispered in disbelief.

“Of course,” Gil answered.

“You told her?”

“Yes, Malcolm. I wouldn’t do this without her permission.”

“Your-you agree with this?” he looked up at his mother, eyes filled with tears.

Jessica raised her eyebrows, a little surprised that a boy as intelligent as him was having such a hard time grasping the concept. “I’ve known since you were 11, dear.” She knelt down in front of him, grabbing his face by the chin, noticing her son’s black eye but choosing not to say anything. She figured it had something to do with the reason he was in his current predicament. “Who do you think told him when you misbehaved?”

Malcolm ripped his face away, fighting against his mentor for control. Gil used both hands to hold him down, a little shocked the boy was acting this way in front of his mother. “Let me up, now!” he demanded, his voice raised.

“You want up, you’re going in the corner. Do you hear me?”

“Malcolm! Behave yourself, that’s no way to speak to the lieutenant.” She stood up again, fixing her skirt and smoothing out the fabric.

“No!” Malcolm shouted, throwing a fist down on the older man’s side. Gil grunted at the impact, responding with a heavy hand. 

“You don’t hit me,” Gil scolded harshly.

“No no no no no,” Malcolm roared. “Stop! Not in front of her, please!” He threw his hands back, blocking his backside from further punishment.

“Then behave yourself,” Arroyo ordered. He stopped his hand but frowned at his son, disappointed with his behavior. He would’ve thought having his mother there would keep him from acting childish but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Let me up!”

“You’re going in the corner, kid.”

“Fine,” the boy retorted, his hands still guarding his backside.

Shaking his head, Gil stood the shorter man up, holding him in front of his lap to give him a sharp look. “Go stand in that corner.” He pointed towards the other side of the room, far enough away so him and Jessica could speak quietly.

Once free, Malcolm rushed away from him, shooting back a scathing look of contempt. Arroyo watched as the boy walked over to the corner, turning around and facing the wall like he was told. Feeling satisfied, Gil turned his attention back to the boy’s mother, standing up to face her. “He’s spiraling again,” she informed.

“What makes you say that?” he felt surprised, because as far as he knew his son had been taking care of himself.

“He’s not taking his medicine. I found these in the garbage.” She rummaged through her purse to pull out a pill bottle still full of little white tablets.

“You’re digging through his trash?” Arroyo took the bottle from her, lifting it up to see better.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I just saw it sitting on the top. I came over here to invite him to dinner with a lovely young lady I know would be perfect for him.”

Gil smiled at that, leave it to her to play matchmaker with her own kids. “So he’s not taking his meds. That’s not good.” He looked over to the boy to make sure he was still standing in the corner. Malcolm was shifting from foot to foot impatiently but was still being obedient, for that the man was grateful. He really didn’t want to make a scene in front of the boy’s mother, no need to add that kind of psychological damage to the list. “If I had the heart I think I might wallop him myself,” she laughed. She put a hand on his forearm, filled with worry for her troublemaker of a son. “But I trust you to teach him. You’re like a father to him.”

“Thank you,” Gil said with sincerity. “I consider him my own.”

“Which is why you can’t let him off the hook for this. Please make sure this never happens again.” She looked at him with such intensity, so much parental concern that he felt he couldn’t let her down. She might be tough and coldhearted to the outside world but inside Arroyo knew she was a loving mother, even if she was a bit harsh.

“Believe me, I won’t.” He looked over again to see the corner empty and immediately sprang into action. “Malcolm get your nose back in that corner right now!” he barked. Within a second the boy came racing over from his kitchen, quickly moving to stand in front of the wall once again.

“Such a rebellious child,” she sighed. She walked across the room, stopping beside her son to give him a stern look. He looked back at her, big blue eyes filled with fear. “This stops now, Malcolm.” He nodded his head and her face softened. “Listen to Gil. And call me when this is over, you’re coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Yes mother,” he answered solemnly. 

She put a gentle hand against his cheek, cupping his face. “Good boy,” she smiled. Then she turned and left, saying her goodbyes to the lieutenant. The loft was silent again, and Gil took the moment of peace to watch the young man standing in the corner and contemplate how to move forward. The boy’s mother was right, he couldn’t let him off the hook for this. It had to be addressed and dealt with as soon as possible. But could he do that right now, or would that be too harsh, adding more punishment to his current situation?

It dawned on him, what he’d have to do. “Malcolm, wait for me on the bed.” The shorter man turned to look at him, hands fidgeting with anxiety. But he did as he was told, walking slowly over to the bed while Gil made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the drawers, finally finding what he was looking for and gripping it tightly. Once he brought this out there was no turning back. Poor kid was going to have to deal with getting the spoon but it would do him a world of good in the end. Arroyo walked briskly back to the boy’s bed, keeping the wooden spoon out of the young man’s line of sight.

“What were you looking f-” Malcolm practically jumped at seeing the implement, moving backwards and onto the bed. “No! You can’t.”

“Get over here.” He gave him a stern look, holding himself with authority and respect. “I expect honesty from you, so you can expect this if you lie to me.” Gil threw it on the center of the bed, hoping to God he wouldn’t have to use it.

Bright gave him a wary look but slowly approached again, moving to stand up beside his mentor. 

“That’s better,” the lieutenant commented. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling the boy to stand in between his legs. Moving his hands to Malcolm’s belt, he made quick work of undoing it.

“No, wait! You said if I was honest-”

“That I wouldn’t use the spoon,” Gil finished. “But you’ve still got more coming to you, and I need to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“By pulling down my pants?!” he shoved his mentor’s hands away but Arroyo just brought them back up, grabbing the boy’s trousers with a strong grip.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “To see if there are any bruises.”

“Not bare!” Malcolm whined. He hadn’t been spanked bare in a while, mostly because he’d been receiving lighter punishments for simple infractions like arguing with the detectives or making bad choices. “Please,” he begged. But Gil tore his pants down, pulling the man down across his left leg with ease. He grabbed ahold of Bright’s boxers, tugging them down swiftly to join his slacks.

Arroyo could see from the medium shade of red that Malcolm was fine, thank God, but more importantly that further punishment certainly wouldn’t kill him. “I need to ask you some questions.”

“Can’t you ask me with my pants up?”

“No you can stay where you are, city boy.” He patted the man’s backside in warning, reminding him of his position. “Have you been eating?”

“Yes,” Malcolm answered quickly. “At least one meal a day.”

“And sleeping?”

“Trying to,” he squirmed. Good, some honesty. 

“You taking your meds?”

Silence. Bright shifted, crossing his legs as his muscles went stiff with anticipation. “Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

Gil pulled out the pill bottle from his pocket and held it in front of the boy’s face. “Want to try that again?” 

Malcolm felt his heart stop in his chest. “Where’d you get those?”

“Your mother found them.”

“She’s been digging through my trash?”

“Is that a confession?”

“No! I just- I mean, I don’t know how she could’ve found those!”

“But they’re yours,” Gil confirmed. Malcolm cringed with anxiety, almost too afraid to answer. “Well?”

“Yes, they’re mine.”

“So you lied to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bright whined again. He knew what was coming now but still dreaded it, wasn’t even sure he could make it through. At least not without crying. There was a moment of lingering silence before he felt the cool wood against his skin, mind racing to find a way out. “No, please! I’ll take any other punishment, just not-”

The sound cut him off mid sentence, echoing through the room. A moment later the pain of the thing burst across his backside and he cried out in surprise. It came down again and jolted him forward, a small yelp escaping. He bit down hard on his lip, determined not to cry like a child at the punishment. But Jesus did it hurt! It slammed down again and Malcolm found himself clenching his fists, his shoulders tense and high. Gil brought it down again and again in the same spot until the young man was basically bouncing off his lap, struggling so hard that the older man had to stop and hold him down.

“Please!” Malcolm wailed. “Stop, stop I hate this!”

“Good,” Gil replied, smacking it down again. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson.” He continued to paddle away, only stopping once he realized his son was too quiet. “Malcolm,” he said in a treacherous tone. “Are you biting your lip again?”

“No!” the younger man practically screamed, releasing his lip from the pressure of his teeth. Gil nodded, continuing the punishment without hesitation. After a particularly hard swat, Bright sucked in a deep breath and released a cry that broke his mentor’s heart. Arroyo hesitated a moment, wondering if this wasn’t all too much. But it was his job, his duty as the boy’s father figure to step in and correct him when necessary. He’d crossed the line and lied to him, thrown away his pills, almost gotten killed. Gil took a calming breath and raised the spoon again, aiming it for his son’s sit spots. The cries that followed made him want to stop more than anything but he held fast and didn’t quit. 

“Why are you here, Malcolm?”

The spoon came down in a sporadic pattern, hitting every spot at least once before repeating. “B-because,” he kicked his legs in anger, shoulders shaking. “I lied.”

“And?” Malcolm’s legs bent in half in self defense but Arroyo simply locked them under his other leg to keep him pinned.

“Threw away- I threw away the pills!”

“What else, kid?” Gil could see the color changing from a lavish red to a deeper shade and knew he had to wrap this up soon. 

“Didn’t listen!” Malcolm bucked his hips but got nowhere, throwing his hands over his head to hide like an ostrich.

“Why is that bad?”

“You care!”

“Right, what else?” He slowed the spoon as the color deepened, growing very concerned for his son’s backside. Just a few more answers and they’d be finished.

“I can’t think,” the boy mumbled, face hidden in the blankets.

“Answer me, Malcolm. Why is not taking your meds bad?”

“I need to- to take care of myself.” He choked on a sob as tears ran down his face.

Gil threw the spoon aside, rubbing the boy’s hot skin with a gentle hand. “And why is lying bad?”

“No one will trust me,” he answered quickly.

“Good, you’re all done.”

The consultant hadn’t realized it was over but kept crying, lying limply over his mentor’s knee. Gil moved to rub his back, soothing the boy’s sorrows away. He hated seeing him cry like this, knowing he’d caused it, but he also knew it was necessary. If throwing him across his knee every once and a while meant keeping his son alive, so be it. He’d rather have him sore than dead. Even if it did bruise the boy’s ego a bit. “I’m sorry, Gil,” he spoke softly.

Arroyo squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “You’re forgiven.” He pulled the boy’s clothes back into place, waiting until the young man was calmer before turning him over and gathering him into a hug. It had become somewhat of a tradition to finish the discipline with hugs, just didn’t seem right without it. He had to let the consultant know he was forgiven and still loved, or else what was the point of it?

“I’m still mad at you,” Malcolm mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Gil smirked, of course the kid was mad at him.

“That was horrible. I’m changing the locks.”

“You do that,” Arroyo smiled, holding his son tight.


End file.
